When Desmond, Temeria's legendary king, was still a child demanding extra jam on his bread, "dwarves" were already the backbone of the banking industry.
From then on, several major dwarven banking families—the Giancardi Family, the Vivaldi Family, and the Chianfanelli Family—had steadily expanded their services, establishing branches in several major northern cities.
This morning, Golan Vivaldi, a "banker" living in Vizima, first noticed his right eyelid twitching nonstop. Then one of his pet fish floated belly-up. Finally, the strap on his slipper snapped. In dwarven tradition, all three were ominous signs.
He considered countless possibilities, even accidentally tearing out several carefully groomed beard hairs. He worried that his wife back in Mahakam had been seduced by a human or elf, and fretted that the cargo ship loaded with dyes bound for Novigrad had run into trouble.
Only when a young human dressed like a mercenary, with a herbalist's bag slung across his shoulder, knocked on his door and took a letter from his clothes to hand over did all those bad omens suddenly make sense.
Leaving the visitor alone in the lavish sitting room, the banker plunged into his secret chamber, tore open the envelope with slightly trembling hands, and found Yaevinn's elegant elven script, sharp as silver hooks and iron strokes, exactly as expected.
"Good day, my dear Mr. Vivaldi. Allow me to humbly report that our shared cause once again requires your assistance..."
After hurriedly reading it through, Golan held the letter over a candle flame and burned it. His usually soft chair felt so hard today that it made his back ache. After thinking for a long time, he finally picked up his pen and began writing a reply in the Common Tongue.
The youth waiting in the sitting room naturally did not remain sitting in his